


Faded, but Still There

by teenageinvincibility



Category: Phlochte - Fandom, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M, Mesa Grand Prix, mgp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenageinvincibility/pseuds/teenageinvincibility
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk phone calls aside, Michael and Ryan haven't spoken in two years. Until - "Is that my sweatshirt?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faded, but Still There

Michael was afraid.

He was afraid of going to Mesa days after everyone else. He feared it would make him seem like he thought he was better than all of them. Like he wasn’t a team player. He feared they would all be more acclimated to the elevation, time change, and weather than he was.

He was afraid of competing. That sounds dumb because he’s Michael Phelps, but he knew the media’s expectations for his “big comeback” were extremely high. He feared failing - especially in the public eye.

He was afraid of waking Ryan up when he walked into the room.

He was afraid of seeing Ryan. He was afraid of sleeping in a bed three free away from the only man - only person - he’d ever truly loved. The only person who’s heart he’d ever cared about breaking.

They’d broken up four months after London - two weeks before Michael was supposed to spend Christmas in Florida with Ryan. Whenever he looked back on it now, Michael always thought it was so stupid - the he was so stupid. He’d been having too much fun acting his age that he’d lost himself - and Ryan - in the process. He’d reminded himself why he’d always been friends with people older than he, because he’d always been more mature.

In the four months after London, Michael was changing time zones and countries faster than Ryan was changing his Speedo, which is saying something since the guy won’t wear the same suit to morning and afternoon practice. Michael constantly surrounded himself with beaches, pools, and people who didn’t care that he was Michael Phelps as long as he picked up the bar tab. Michael had wanted Ryan to come, but Ryan had refused, saying he couldn’t afford to take months off of training.

In the beginning, Michael sent Ryan daily pictures and they’d Facetime or talk on the phone at a convenient time for both them. Then, as the weeks went on, Ryan had to refer to Michael’s Instagram for updates.

In the beginning, Michael missed Ryan. He’d had his reservations, and would often leave parties around midnight or one to go call Ryan. He’d never get so drunk that he couldn’t shoo away girls’ hands, just drunk enough that he couldn’t feel the obvious emptiness.

But once Michael kissed the first girl, he just kept going. He started sleeping with them, bringing his favorite along to the next destination and then switching her out with a newer model. The first time he uploaded a picture of him and Cabo Brunette, Ryan’s phone calls and texts increased, but Michael ignored all of them. He couldn’t bring himself to face his mistakes. Couldn’t bring himself to believe he’d actually ruined the only thing he’d been looking forward to after London.

He was supposed to be living in Florida as a stay-at-home-trophy-husband while Ryan trained. He was supposed to have dinner ready when Ryan got home every night, and then massage him on the couch while they drank red wine and watched Sports Center. Michael was supposed to do Ryan’s laundry and find the Michigan sweatshirt he’d thought he’d lost weeks ago. He was supposed to oversee the kitchen getting remodeled so Ryan could sell the house and they could buy a place of their own.

Instead, Michael went to tropical locations he wasn’t interested in with people he didn’t care about and broke Ryan’s heart.

They’d only spoken on a handful of occasions in the last sixteen months, but talking was a loose way of putting it. They were both guilty of drunk calls and texts that went unacknowledged the next morning.

So yeah, Michael was not at all surprised that his heart was beating so hard he could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he walked down the hallway to the room he would be sharing with Ryan for the next few days.

Michael’s hands were so sweaty he almost dropped his keycard, but somehow managed to unlock the door. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but was sort of relieved and a little irritated to find Ryan sitting on the couch talking to Conor. Both men looked up when Michael entered and Conor got up to give him a hug.

“Hey, man” he grinned. “I haven’t seen you in a week.”

Michael forced a smile. “Yeah, the house was lonely the last few days.” Over Conor’s shoulder, Ryan scowled and Michael’s stomach twisted into a knot.

“I should get to bed. Did you see Bob’s got us at the pool at 6 tomorrow? Fuckin’ nuts.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, unphased by the hour since he’d been training with Boman for seventeen years. “See you at the pool tomorrow.”

Conor left the room and, when the door closed, the silence was deafening and the tension was palpable.

“Uh,” Michael cleared his throat. “Which bed is mine?”

“That one,” Ryan said, pointing to the one by the window. Michael dragged his suitcase across the room and began putting his things in the dresser, happy to have something to busy himself with.

Ryan sat on the couch playing with his phone and Michael guessed he was texting Devon or Cullen.

“Is, uh, any of your family here?” Mike asked.

“Nah, it’s just a Grand Prix,” Ryan said, and then looked back down at his phone.

Michael finished unpacking and was at a loss for what to do. He knew he needed to shower, but -

“Is that my sweatshirt?” The words escaped Michael’s mouth before he could even think not to say them.

Ryan looked down at the blue hoodie he was wearing. It was so worn that you could barely see the faded yellow M. “Uh, I guess, yeah,” he said.

“Oh, um, okay.” Michael grabbed his shampoo, razor, and towel off his bed and headed quickly over to the bathroom.

“Hey, Mike?”

Michael stopped in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at Ryan. “Yeah?”

“Let’s just try to get through this, okay?”

Michael nodded and closed the bathroom door. His hands were very shaky in the shower and he knew he missed a lot of spots while shaving. Usually he and Ryan shaved each other, but Michael didn’t want to think about that.

When Michael got out of the shower, Ryan was asleep and the sweatshirt was folded on the foot of Michael’s bed.

 

When Ryan’s alarm went off at 5:30, Mike was already dressed. Ryan pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and then kicked the blankets off. He stretched and stumbled into the bathroom.

Ryan splashed some water on his face to wake himself up and then brushed his teeth. He gurgled his mouthwash and then flicked the lights off, colliding with Mike as he stepped out of the bathroom.

“Sorry,” they both mumbled.

They spent the next fifteen minutes sidestepping around each other as they packed their pool bags. Michael left first; Ryan didn’t have to be at the pool until 6.

He decided to go see if anyone was eating in the private room the swimmers have at the hotel and found Nathan and Grevers. He grabbed himself a big bowl of fruit and a granola bar and then joined them at the table.

“How was last night?” Nathan asked. While the majority of the world had no idea Michael and Ryan dated - let alone were gay - the swimming world was a different story.

Ryan shrugged. “He got in kinda late. We didn’t really have time to talk.”

“Do you want to?” Grevers asked around a mouthful of cereal.

Ryan shrugged again. “The guy broke my heart. Like I still don’t think I’m over it, ya know?”

Coach Bob and Coach Troy have worked together ever since Michael and Ryan became friends in Athens, so it shouldn’t have surprised Ryan when he had to share the pool with Michael for practice all day.

Ryan couldn’t get over how good Mike looked. He’d only been seriously training again for a few months, but his body looked almost like he hadn’t stopped after London. Michael caught Ryan looking a few times, but Ryan didn’t care because it meant Michael was looking at him, too.

Other than Mike, Conor and Cullen were Ryan’s two best friends in swimming. Other than Ryan, Conor and Alison were Mike’s two best friends. During their breaks, all of the girls would sort of group together, so Conor would have to awkwardly bounce between Michael and Ryan.

Ryan wished Conor never moved to Maryland, but mostly Ryan wished Cullen was there.

 

Michael hated press conferences. Why do people care about him? All he does is swim, break some records, and win some medals. He wished Peter hadn’t made him do this. He could only answer so many questions about Ryan and their rivalry. In London, they’d both gotten so fed up and almost just outed themselves during an interview.

“Should we just do it?” Ryan whispered to Michael.

“‘Michael,’” Michael said, mocking a reporter. “‘How does it feel to be beaten by Ryan?’ ‘Pretty damn good. He’s got long fingers, so they wrap all the way-’” Ryan cut Michael off with a jab in his side as he bit back his laughter.

Michael was able to get away after only 15 minutes. He left the tent quickly before reporters could ask him follow-up questions and got into the car waiting to take him back to the hotel. He wanted to talk to Ryan, preferably before they swam the fly the following day.

Michael and Bob got off on the same floor and went their separate ways down the hallway. Michael opened the door and found Ryan, alone this time, watching TV. Ryan looked up when the door opened, gave Michael a nod of recognition, and then turned back to the TV.

Michael had to wonder how badly Ryan was hurting. After all, even when Michael was the one cheating and lying, he was still the one to end it. Ryan had wanted to work things out.

Rolling his shoulders and neck, Michael walked around and to stand in front of the TV. It took a minute before Ryan’s eyes focused on Michael, and Michael knew that Ryan wasn’t paying attention.

“What?” he grunted.

“Can we, uh,” Michael’s mouth was suddenly very dry. “Talk? About what happened. You know. Between, um, us?”

Ryan swallowed thickly and nodded, turning off the TV with one press of a button. He took his feet off the couch and gestured for Michael to sit down.

Looking at Ryan, Michael didn’t know where to start. He hadn’t properly looked into Ryan’s eyes in two years. He forgot how blue they were. He felt like he was drowning.

“Ry, er, Ryan, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Why don’t I?” Ryan asked. “How could- What were- What happened, Mike? All of a sudden you were just… gone.”

Michael had this undeniable urge to reach out for Ryan - to touch him and console him and tell him he was never going anywhere ever again. But Michael didn’t know how Ryan would react to that so he folded his arms over his chest and balled his hands into fists.

“I never meant to hurt you Ryan. I know that sound dumb, because literally all I did was hurt you - us - but I just got lost. I lost myself. Because I was without you,” Michael had never admitted it to himself until just now. The only time he was ever himself was when he was with Ryan. “I never wanted to hurt you and I feel terribly about everything that happened between us. I know it’s all my fault, Ry.”

Ryan let that sink in. Hearing Michael take all the blame for it is something he’d been waiting on for two years, and it didn’t help at all. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be over what happened. We like planned our lives, Mike, and you had no problem throwing that away.”

“I’m still in love with you.” Michael hadn’t thought about the words before saying them, but as soon as they were hanging in there, he knew they were true. “And I still want everything we talked about.”

Ryan scowled. “You think that it’s that easy? That I’ll just drop everything and - “

Ryan was cut off when Michael leaned across the couch and smashed their lips together. It was awkward with a lot of teeth, but eventually Ryan stopped fighting him and kissed him back. They stayed like that, kissing softly and remembering how the other tasted. When Michael pulled away, he rested his forehead on Ryan’s, his hand on the back of Ryan’s neck.

“Sorry.” he breathed. “What were you saying?”

“I don’t remember,” Ryan said, hungrily bringing Mike’s lips back to his own. He felt like he could breathe for the first time in two years.

 

Ryan’s hand hit the wall and he glided up to rest his back against it, chest heaving. He turned to look at the board and found that he finished with the fastest time, but not his fastest time.

“Nice job.” Ryan looked up to find that Michael on the blocks above him, stretching for his own prelim race.

“Thanks,” he panted, managing a smile.

“Why’d you have to go so fast?” Michael grinned down at Ryan.

The signal sounded and Michael got up on the blocks and took his mark. He dove over Ryan and Ryan felt the water lap up around his collarbones like a caress. He lifted himself out of the pool and walked back to the locker room.

Ryan was sure he’d make it into the finals; he swam the second to last heat and had one of the fastest times of the day. To be perfectly honest, Ryan was impressed that he was even able to swim at all, considering he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing Michael.

It scared him how much lighter he felt since the night before. It scared him how much Michael still meant to him.

 

Lunch rolled around and Ryan walked into the cafeteria with Conor. He really missed having Conor in Florida. They’d grown very close over the last four years, and it had been nice having someone else from the club on the National and Olympic teams.

It had also broken Ryan’s heart when Conor moved in with Mike. He knew that Conor wasn’t gay and had moved strictly for training purposes, but Conor had gotten to do something that Ryan had dreamed of for years. He’d resented Conor for a little while, even before he and Michael had broken up.

“This table good?” Conor asked, gesturing to the table where Tyler, Matt, Ricky, and Michael were sitting.

“Yeah.” Ryan followed Conor and they set their trays down on the table, Ryan sitting opposite Michael.

Ryan was genuinely enjoying his conversation with his teammates. No one was questioning that he and Michael were perfectly comfortable with each other, something they were both very thankful for.

Ryan popped a grape into his mouth and instantly began choking on it when Michael ran his foot from Ryan’s ankle up to his inner thigh under the cover of the table. Ryan sputtered as Michael’s eyes glowed, and Conor clapped Ryan on the back.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ryan gasped. Michael was asking for it. To soothe his throat, Ryan decided to take a sip of his water. He sucked the straw into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks, and looking Michael straight in the eyes.

Michael began shifting in his seat, arms folded across his chest. Ryan set his cup down and licked his lips, eyes still locked with Michael’s.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Michael announced, shooting Ryan a look over his shoulder as he stalked out of the cafeteria.

Ryan waited for a few of the longest minutes of his life before excusing himself, mumbling something about having to talk to his coach. Ryan rounded the corners to the bathroom and was yanked into a supply closet. Michael pushed Ryan up against the door, his mouth attacking Ryan’s.

Michael slid his hand under Ryan’s shirt, running his hands over Ryan’s smooth chest. His skin was hot, but Michael was used to it. Ryan literally absorbed the sun and redistributed its rays. Michael always used to wake up sweating because sleeping with Ryan was like sleeping in a sauna.

Ryan’s hands gripped Michael’s hips, holding him in place against him. He pressed his thumbs against where Michael’s tattoos were hidden under his clothes. Ryan remembers the first time he saw Michael’s tattoos and how badly he’d wanted to trace them with his tongue, and how much it turned him on when he finally got to do it.

Wrenching his hand from Michael’s hip, Ryan put it against Michael’s chest and pushed him back, both of them panting.

“What?” Michael asked.

Ryan leaned back against the door and sighed. “I don’t think I can just jump back into this.”

Michael should’ve expected this. He knew it was too good to be true, that Ryan would just take him back without any questions asked. He knew how badly he’d hurt Ryan, and how he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to make it up to him or prove that he was still deserving of Ryan’s love.

But he wasn’t going to give up.

Michael cupped Ryan’s face in his hand and looked into his eyes. Today they were the color of the pool as the sun started to rise during practice. “So let’s take it slow.”

 

Ryan had to pinch himself a few times to make sure Mike was really next to him on the blocks and he wasn’t going to wake up from another one of his dreams about London. They don’t look at each other, but they’re in race mode. It’s all Ryan can do to keep breathing after Mike starts doing his arm flaps, though. The asshole.

The signal sounds and they dive into the water. Ryan dolphin kicks into butterfly, and he feels good. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he felt this good going into a race.

Well, actually he can. His last race in London. Back when he thought he was going to spend his off-time helping Mike move in, instead of stalking his boyfriend’s Instagram for information on his whereabouts and company.

Ryan turned at the wall and peaked over at Mike. He was half a body-length ahead, but smiled because Mike was really there.

Ryan hit the wall and looked back at the board. He’d won. He’d beat Mike at the fly. As if two years hadn’t passed, Mike swam over to Ryan’s lane and grabbed his hand.

“Good job, man,” he panted.

They floated there in silence until Rowdy came over and asked for interview. Ryan had to periodically busy himself with fixing his bathing suit or staring at his toes in an effort to keep his hands to himself. He’d forgotten how beautiful he looked after a race: chest heaving, water clinging to his skin, hair sticking up in random spots. He’d forgotten the look Michael got in his eyes when he talked about swimming. It came close to how he looked at Ryan.

They have to stop and take a bunch of pictures, and Michael’s skin burns Ryan where they touch.

By the time they made it into the locker room, everyone else was gone. Ryan checked every row, stall, and shower to make sure. He walked over to Mike’s row where he was packing his bag back up.

“Do you wanna take a shower?” he asked.

“I was planning on just taking one at the hotel, unless you - “  
“Mike,” Ryan said, and began walking backwards toward the shower. “Do you want to take a shower?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, dropping whatever was in his hand and catching up to Ryan.

Ryan’s back was pressed against the wall, Michael’s hands cupping his ass. Water poured down on them, finding the few open spaces between them to run down. They started out kissing hungrily, attacking each other’s mouths, but had slowed down to tender kissing, now that they were both sure neither of them was going anywhere.

Ryan ran his hands down Michael’s chest and Michael moaned as Ryan’s hands went lower and lower. It had been two years, but they hadn’t forgotten how each other’s bodies worked. Michael knew exactly how to drag out Ryan’s orgasm, and Ryan knew the spot to kiss that would make Mike’s toes curl.

They leaned against the wall, both panting heavily. When Michael quietly linked his fingers with Ryan’s, Ryan didn’t understand how he’d gone so long without him.

 

Michael couldn’t tell you how, but he just knew to lead with clubs. So when he and Ryan won Spades for the fourth time in a row that night, no one was surprised. Conor threw his cards down on the table and looked hopelessly at Tyler.

“I was trying to tell you I was going with hearts,” Conor groaned as Ryan shuffled the deck.

Michael had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at Ryan. “We still got it, Doggy.”

After Mike’s comment, Conor spent the rest of the night trying to communicate nonverbally with Mike and Ryan to figure out what had happened between them. In fact, he spent so much of his focus on them, that he completely missed all of Tyler’s signs, causing them to go further and further into negative points.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Tyler said after three hours and $200 down the drain. “You two have some sort of weird ass telepathy. Or you’re cheating. Goodnight.”

Ryan and Michael smirked as Tyler stalked out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, Conor jumped on them.

“What’s going on with you two? Like… I mean… I don’t wanna make assumptions, but…” His eyes switched rapidly between Michael and Ryan, trying to get one of them to break.

Michael just shrugged. “We don’t really know. We’re just… taking things slow.”

Conor smiled. “Good. I’ve gotten to know both of you pretty well, and I’ve known you together and apart, and you’re always happier together.” He stood up and walked to the door. “See you guys tomorrow.”

There was a weird tension in the room after Conor left as his words sunk in. They sat in silence, avoiding each other’s eyes, as Ryan continued to mindlessly shuffle the deck.

“I’m, uh, gonna go shower,” Mike said, standing up and crossing the room to the bathroom.

Ryan shoved the cards back into the box, peeled off his shirt, and climbed into bed. He knew Conor was right. After all, Conor, with Devon’s help, had been the one to get him through the break up. Conor had seen first hand how happy Ryan and Michael were together, be it at meets or at home, and how devastated they’d both been when it ended.

Ryan knew he was still in love with Michael, and that Michael was the only person he’d ever seriously considered marrying, but he couldn’t forget what had happened after London no matter how hard he tried.

Michael turned the shower off and opened the door, flooding the otherwise dark bedroom with light. Towel wrapped around his wait, Michael went over to his dresser and slipped into a pair of boxers. He hung his towel up in the bathroom and found Ryan watching him lazily from bed.

Michael turned the light off and decided to give something a try. He walked around his own bed and crawled into Ryan’s, laying on top of him to kiss him hard.

“This is against normal meet rules,” Ryan said, softly smiling up at Michael.

“This isn’t a normal meet,” Michael answered, pressing his lips to Ryan’s again.

When their alarms went off the next morning, Michael woke up in Ryan’s bed.

 

The rest of the meet goes by in a blur of first-place finishes and secret kisses. They don’t sleep together or share a bed again, just to keep their focus and to stick to traditional meet rules.

As with most Grand Prix’s and laid-back meets, most of the National Team sticks around for an extra night so they can party and catch up with everyone on non-stressful terms. Ryan was disappointed to learn that Michael wouldn’t be joining them, because he had to get to Cabo for his charity event.

“You should come,” Michael said quietly as he packed and Ryan scrolled through emails.

“What?” he said, looking up from his phone.

“Come to Cabo,” Michael repeated, more confident this time.

“You’re crazy,” Ryan dismissed the idea and went back to deleting two-week old email messages.

Michael stopped packing and went to sit on the edge of Ryan’s bed. Ryan set his phone down on his stomach and looked up expectantly at Michael.

“Okay, maybe that’s taking it too fast, but what happens now?”

“I don’t know, Mike. We can’t just, ya know, be in a relationship again,” Ryan said. Michael dropped his head and Ryan continued pointedly. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to get there eventually. You’re kind of it, I think.”

“How romantic, Ryan, thank you,” Michael rolled his eyes, but smiled when Ryan punched him in the shoulder. “I just don’t want us to take steps backward.”

“We won’t,” Ryan promised, scotting to sit next to Mike so he could twist their fingers together. Michael dropped his head to Ryan’s shoulder. “You’ll go to Cabo and then we’ll be in Charlotte before we know it. Look, we’ll take the next month to think about what we both want, and then after Charlotte you can crash at my place for a few days and we can work it out, jeah?”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Michael agreed, picking his head up to kiss Ryan. “Oh, but we’re done with that word.”

Michael laughed as Ryan pushed him onto his back and crawled on top of him, kissing Michael all over and saying “jeah” between each kiss.

It was hard saying goodbye to Mike, but the promise of being together again in a month made it a little easier. When Ryan walked back into his Charlotte apartment, he imagined Mike being there. He imagined him sitting on the couch and helping himself to whatever was in the fridge and complaining that he wouldn’t be able to sleep comfortably on the couch so he’d just have to sleep in Ryan’s bed.

Ryan dragged his suitcase over to the washing machine and just dumped the contents in. He was about to pour the soap in when something caught his eye. He reached into the washing machine and pulled out the blue hoodie with the faded yellow M.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bunch of Phlochte stories drafted on my computer. I finally got an AO3 membership and have somewhere to post them. I know Ryan is no longer swimming in Charlotte this weekend, but maybe this will have a follow-up (:


End file.
